Gentle note to the reader: It would be a good idea to get caught up on 1 to 10 before reading this segment, but you don’t have to pay any heed to the woman behind the curtain, or wherever I am these days. –M
11. A Message to the GWFriendslist – Beware of Yahoo
I took hours to scratch out a message to the Friends List today. Kind of silly. I can’t send it, of course, and it’s an awful message. I never like to send messages that are downers. I like to be pretty “up”, cracking jokes, sneaking in witticisms, trying to find the center of the oreo.
But I feel so lonely and scared. As a Zorro fan, one would like to think that if I really met Zorro, he would like me. Same with Diego. But neither one can stand me at the moment. Admittedly, I have some disadvantages, such as I happen to be Magdalena in this script. But I always thought I could change his mind about her. I can’t. And I may die before I get another chance to try. The script is written – with some revisions I don’t quite understand, and I must live it all out. Or die, you know. Magdalena only got one episode. How I miss my friends. I miss my fantasy. I wonder if this will kill it. If not me. A carriage is coming up to the door. Yes, I am afraid.
To: The Guy Williams Friendslist
I don’t know quite how to put this.
At this moment, I have taken Magdalena’s body (only she doesn’t look like the Magdalena you know – well – this is immaterial, how I’m looking these days. Except that I look pretty darn good). I was sucked into a white hole in cyberspace. At least I think that’s what happened, and I am in some version of 1820 Los Angeles, a pueblo complete with Sergeant Garcia, Padre Felipe, Don Diego, and Zorro. But don’t eat your hearts out for me just yet.
I did manage to catch Diego’s eye, and we are betrothed. Don Alejandro and Don Francisco signed a contract. God bless New Spain, we children must obey our parents no matter how old we are, and I’m not sure how old I am, but under the circumstances, I haven’t wanted to complain.
I think that Diego loved me – or Magdalena or both – talk about an identity crisis. I feel young as can be, except now I feel very old.
Magdalena got involved with the Eagle conspiracy, as you know. I understand her reasons better now. Because of that, she found herself betrothed to the Eagle, who is none other than a truly awful Monastario. No fun stuff with him. Yes, that means I have an understanding with both Don Diego and Monastario.
Just as Diego’s and my engagement was announced, I lost Diego. He found out I was associated with the Eagle. The party’s over. It’s time to call it a day. Monastario knew I had lost my zeal and sent men to kill my father and me. Zorro showed up, and we all got through it. But Father was shot and will take a while to mend.
Zorro showed his disdain for me. How could I possibly betray California, etc. Well, I stood in the road, my father possibly dying, more attacks possibly on the way, and I just screamed at him. Some Zorro fan, huh? Well, he did say he didn’t know why he let me live – or whatever that stupid line is. To be on the receiving end of those words is to realize what an awful and hurtful thing they are, and after our beautiful days together – and we had many – it was as if Diego wasn’t there at all, just an accusatory figure in a black cape and mask who simply hated me. Imagine, after nearly dying, having Zorro say that he didn’t know why he went to the trouble of keeping you alive. He never said that to anyone else, even to Raquel. Only to Magdalena. And what did I do except try to move through pain?
I feel tired and bitter, more my age than Magdalena’s. Trying to stop horses bent on running over a cliff is harder that it looks. Where is Buddy when you need him. Zorro wants me dead. Or he wouldn’t care if I died. Monastario and his men want me dead. I would say that the odds are against me.
The news of the attacks on my father and me has all of Los Angeles up in arms, or trying to be. They think it was their peons who attacked us and will continue to raid the upper class – the peons –the people who empty their slop jars, wash their linen, cook their meals, tend their gardens, clean their stables, and skin their cattle. Why should these lucky people be angry at their masters? But I know it was Monastario’s men who attacked us.
The doctor told me that Monastario has issued curfews and rules. Oh, he was ready. No worker can be out alone after nightfall unless he is with his master or carries a note of permission. No worker can enter Los Angeles without a note, if he is alone. All who disobey these and any other rules will be shot without a trial. By order of Our Old Friend and Worse. All suspicious loners will be shot on sight.
I know his plans. He wants to foment an uprising and then bring in his own forces when people are fed up with King and Crown and afraid, when they will long for someone who seems to know what he is doing and has authority and power. When I left Mexico City, Monastario was winning support from foreign governments – assurances of recognition, financial aid for soldiers and weapons. Dignitaries would come to see Monastario, and my job was to be charming. Such a beautiful lady who will be queen of New Spain. A feather in the Eagle’s cap, so to speak.
More than likely, I will find my head on the chopping block if I am not killed soon. I do not know how I got here and if I will get out. I am not sure if I will survive. I wish I could ask you all for help, but I can’t hook up to MSN and Yahoo here. That Yahoo. It puts you into messes and then abandons you.
I cannot say I am unhappy even with all this. Just scared witless. If I get out of here, at least I will have an entertaining tale and one broken heart. I have really messed this one up. I am so sorry. I feel as if I’ve let you all down.
I hope to see you again or at least to post messages to you again soon. Even to complain about Yahoo.
--M
